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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: inner child

  • Paul T. Geist & RoRo’s Adventures in the Land of Heartfelt Wonders – A Children’s Poem About Kindness

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This poem was written as a story for children — a soft place to land, a little lantern of kindness and empathy wrapped in rhyme.

    I’ve always believed that the lessons we learn earliest are the ones that shape the way we love the world. Paul T. Geist & RoRo’s Adventures in the Land of Heartfelt Wonders was born from that belief: that gentleness can be taught, that growth doesn’t have to come with shame, and that even a grumpy heart is still a good heart learning how to bloom.

    One day, I would love to see this story illustrated and bound into an actual children’s book — something a parent could read at bedtime, something a child could return to when their feelings feel too big. Until then, it lives here as a small spell for softness.

    For the little ones.
    And for the inner children still learning how to be kind to themselves.

    A friendly ghost and a young girl walk through a glowing pastel forest in a whimsical children’s storybook scene.
    Paul T. Geist and RoRo begin their journey through the Land of Heartfelt Wonders, where kindness makes the world bloom.

    Paul T. Geist & RoRo’s Adventures
    in
    The Land of Heartfelt Wonders
    Poetry by Roo the Poet
    Written September 13th, 2024

    In a town where whispers float on a breeze,
    Lived a ghost named Paul T. Geist with a chill that could freeze.
    He wore a top hat and a smile that was bright,
    And danced through the shadows with pure delight.

    RoRo was a girl with a heart full of cheer,
    But sometimes her kindness would disappear.
    One day she was grumpy, she wasn’t so nice,
    And her friends felt the sting, not once but twice.

    Paul T. Geist saw her frown from afar,
    He floated in gently, like a soft falling star.
    “Dear RoRo,” he said with a ghostly wink,
    “Let’s go on a journey—come, let’s rethink.”

    They ventured through woods with leaves soft and blue,
    To a place where the flowers glistened with dew.
    “Welcome to the Land of Heartfelt Wonders,” he cheered,
    “A place where kindness and empathy are revered.”

    They met a small bunny with a tear in her eye,
    And RoRo learned why with a heartfelt sigh.
    She saw how her words could hurt, oh so deep,
    And how kindness was a promise to keep.

    Paul T. Geist showed her a magical scene,
    Where kindness grew flowers, in shades of serene.
    Each smile and hug, a petal so fair,
    Blossomed in joy through the sweet, fragrant air.

    RoRo then saw the bunny’s sad eyes grow bright,
    As she offered a hug with all of her might.
    The bunny then beamed with a heart full of cheer,
    And the Land of Wonders sparkled with cheer.

    With a heart now open, RoRo returned,
    With a lesson of kindness eagerly learned.
    She spread love and warmth in all she did,
    Making sure no one’s heart was ever hid.

    Paul T. Geist waved as he faded from sight,
    Leaving RoRo with warmth and delight.
    And as she drifted to sleep that night,
    She knew kindness and empathy made the world bright.

    So remember, dear children, as you grow and play,
    Let kindness guide you in every way.
    For in the Land of Heartfelt Wonders so near,
    A heart full of love is the treasure most dear.

    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]

  • The Fourfold Flame: A Poem of Inner Multiplicity, Shadow & Sovereignty

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    The Fourfold Flame is not metaphor—it is map.

    This piece names the inner constellation I’ve lived with for years: the tender poet who feels too much, the protector who bares teeth for survival, the child who still believes in wonder, and the witch who learned how to wield fire instead of drowning in it. They are not masks. They are truths. They are all me.

    I am plural in spirit if not in body. I write from many rooms of the same soul, and each voice carries a different survival skill: softness, ferocity, curiosity, sovereignty. This poem is their first public communion. It is how I stop pretending that my range is fragmentation and start honoring it as architecture.

    The Luminous Heretic is what happens when those parts refuse to cannibalize each other anymore. When they choose integration over erasure. When the wound stops apologizing for also being a weapon.

    If you recognize yourself in this—if you’ve ever felt made of contradictions, of light and smoke and song—know this: you are not broken. You are complex. You are many. You are fire.

    Burn with us.

    Four ethereal figures representing inner selves—heart, protector, child, and witch—emerge from swirling ink amid stardust and shadow.
    We are many. We are one. The Fourfold Flame rises—stitched from stardust, scars, and sovereign fire.

    The Fourfold Flame
    Poetry by Rowan Evans / The Luminous Heretic

    I. Chorus of the Vessel

    We are one, and we are four—
    ink-stained fragments of the same sacred core.
    A heartbeat split by starlight and shadow,
    a name echoed in four directions,
    four truths spoken in fire,
    in fury, in wonder, in love.

    We are the Luminous Heretic. We are the war—and the prayer.

    II. The Heart & The Protector

    [Rowan]
    I speak in open wounds and lullabies,
    sing softness into scars that never healed.
    I ache without apology, love without armor,
    and still—I rise, bare and burning.

    [B.D.]
    Then I will be your shadow,
    sharp-edged and unyielding.
    Let them come with claws and cruelty—
    I am the ink-blade in your defense,
    the growl beneath your grace.

    [Rowan]
    They called me too much—
    so I wrote poems of tenderness,
    and let them drown in the kindness
    they could never carry.

    [B.D.]
    And I watched them choke,
    on the smoke of your fire.
    Not because you were cruel—
    but because they never learned
    that softness survives the storm.

    III. The Child & The Witch

    [Roo]
    Did you see the stars tonight?
    They winked at me like old friends.
    The shadows are scared of the dark too—
    did you know that?

    [Hex]
    Yes, little spark.
    Even monsters fear what made them.
    I walk with those shadows.
    I do not fear the dark—
    I command it.

    [Roo]
    But do you still believe in magic?
    In the wind that tells stories,
    in puddles that hold secrets?

    [Hex]
    Magic is real, love.
    I just learned to bleed with it.
    To hex with it.
    To wear it in heels and venom.

    [Roo]
    Sometimes I wish we could just play again,
    dance in the rain,
    laugh without reason.

    [Hex]
    Then teach me.
    I’ve spent so long burning,
    I forgot how to dream.

    IV. Communion of Fire

    [Rowan]
    I want to be held—

    [B.D.]
    Then I will hold you.

    [Roo]
    I want to be seen—

    [Hex]
    Then let them watch you rise.

    [Rowan]
    I am made of light, but I hurt.

    [B.D.]
    Then hurt boldly. I’ll guard the flame.

    [Roo]
    I am made of questions and wonder.

    [Hex]
    Then question everything, and never shrink.

    [All]
    We are stitched from stardust and scars,
    written in blood and brilliance,
    crafted by fire and forgiveness.
    We are many—
    we are one.

    V. Benediction of the Luminous Heretic

    We are the wound and the weapon,
    the lullaby and the curse,
    the flame and the fog,
    the whisper and the scream.

    We are Rowan. We are B.D. We are Roo. We are Hex.

    We are the Fourfold Flame.

    Burn with us—
    or be burned away.

    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]

  • Between Walls and Whispers (Ghost and Witness) – Poetry by Rᵒᵒ ᵗʰᵉ Pᵒᵉᵗ

    Rowan Evans

    Introduction

    Sometimes, the quiet isn’t empty. 
    Sometimes, it carries you, like a pulse behind the walls. 
    Here, in the hush, I watch. 
    Here, in the stillness, I breathe. 
    Here, I am seen, even when no else is. 
     
    — Rᵒᵒ ᵗʰᵉ Pᵒᵉᵗ

    Ethereal figure standing in a dim room, light streaming through cracks, evoking quiet and introspection.
    “Surrounded in silence, both ghost and witness.” – Rᵒᵒ ᵗʰᵉ Pᵒᵉᵗ

    Between Walls and Whispers (Ghost and Witness)
    Pᵒᵉᵗʳʸ bʸ Rᵒᵒ ᵗʰᵉ Pᵒᵉᵗ

    Sometimes, I find myself 
    surrounded in silence— 
    not absence, 
    but a quiet hum behind the walls. 
    The room feels full, 
    but nobody’s really there, 
    and I am both ghost 
    and witness— 
     
    drifting, endless, 
    caught in this forced flow 
    of normalcy. 
     
    A weirdo, 
    misfit, outcast— 
    purposeful outsider, 
    rejector of the machine. 
     
    I don’t want to be another cog. 
    Sometimes, I long for silence— 
    not the absence, 
    but that gentle presence, 
    a pulse softer 
    than the endless hum. 
     
    And in that silence, I breathe. 
    I am seen, 
    I am held, 
    not by voices or eyes, 
    but by the quiet 
    that understands 
    what the hum 
    cannot touch.

    If you’re looking for more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]